


Stapled to the Mattress

by VampireQueenDespair



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Additional Warnings Apply, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Despaircest, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Rape, F/F, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Incest, Not Rape Porn, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexaul Abuse, Sibling Incest, Sister/Sister Incest, Substance Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Victim Blaming, nonconsensual incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireQueenDespair/pseuds/VampireQueenDespair
Summary: Junko returns home to Mukuro after a night out on her own intoxicated and violent, but Mukuro can’t disobey her sister. Even when she wants to.





	Stapled to the Mattress

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I do notes at the end, but I need this here. This is not a good story for those with rape-related triggers. I did my best to write this as realistically as I can. I’m a CSA survivor. I wouldn’t usually put that out there, but that’s the only reason this exists I believe. I just started writing this and couldn’t not write it once I started. It deals with real psychological responses, and uses real phrases commonly used in rape and abuse. This is not like how I usually write this ship, and does not reflect how I feel about it. I considered not sharing this story at all, but I had to. Much like writing it, I felt compelled to. While the sexuality is graphic, this was not and is not intended as masturbatory material, unlike my other works with this ship. Viewer discretion is advised. If there were a rating above explicit, I would use it here.

Mukuro belonged to Junko. That was a simple fact that both of them had understood from the moment they were born. Whether by fate, genetics, or an act of whatever deity you wanted to blame, Mukuro had been made for Junko, a dark offering to the pastel destroyer. This fact never bothered Mukuro. In fact, it was her only pride. No matter how good she was at her job, no matter what she did correctly, no matter how successful she was, nothing beyond Junko mattered. She followed orders, from the mundane to the demented, without question nor hesitation. If Junko willed it, Mukuro ensured it would happen. With the right orders she could have been a savior, but her owner wasn’t interested in that. She was something fatal that fell into the wrong hands, a tool of war wielded by one who waged it not for personal gain or beliefs, but for the despair of war itself.

Mukuro didn’t dream. She didn’t need to. Dreaming was a hinderance. Mukuro’s sleep past by without event, like a light switch flicked. Her sleep began and ended at exactly where she intended it to, a mechanical precision befitting her title. She didn’t have nightmares, she didn’t have pleasurable dreams, she just turned off and on. At the slightest provocation she could awake, her impeccable guard up even while unconscious. However, more than that she could control her reactions when snapping out of sleep. More than once she had awoken to stop Junko from snuffing out her life, but did so without an inch of harm on Junko’s perfect skin. Junko always responded the same way. A tirade of insults. “Just fucking kill me!” “Why are you so goddamn disappointing?!” “What’s the point of a killer who can’t kill when her life is on the line?!” Comments like that were a normal part of Mukuro’s 2am when Junko was out late. This was one such night.

Mukuro had gotten to bed early, laying down at exactly 9pm. Junko had once more gone out without her. While they shared a room at Hope’s Peak, and a bed, Mukuro frequently found herself sleeping alone. Junko would often go out, ordering Mukuro to stay put while she was away. Mukuro had tried to protest the first time it happened but a powerful backhand, one she could have avoided but didn’t, put to bed that idea. Mukuro had stayed up late worrying the first several times, but at this point it was routine. The first time it had happened, Junko had come home with her clothes ripped, covered in blood and clearly intoxicated. It was only after Mukuro had gotten Junko cleaned up that she discovered her sister was entirely uninjured. Through slurred words, Junko had explained what happened. She’d gone out clubbing, drinking free despite her riches, off the pay of desperate young men. She had lured them outside, making them think she was too drunk to put up a fight, that they could easily rape her and leave her in an alley. Then she had killed them all. Mukuro was of course terrified for her sister, and expressed as much, but Junko had just laughed.

“What’s the big deal, sis? Either way, I win.” Junko had said with a gleeful smile, one that failed to reach her eyes. Mukuro frowned, but didn’t argue. Over time, Mukuro realized that these sorts of things were common. When Junko ordered her to stay home while she was out, more often than not she would come home bloody and wasted, barely able to walk in a straight line for two feet and yet completely uninjured. Mukuro came to realize it was a sort of game for her sister. She was put in a situation with no safety net, a true possibility of death. She made sure she was somewhat incapacitated, giving an advantage to her foes, and then she fought for her life. If Mukuro were there there would be no game, no chance she could die. There would be no despair in that, just boring safety.

Sometimes Junko would come in in better shape than usual. These were the times she picked fights. When Junko came in without blood on her, without any damage to her clothes that cost more than most people made in a year, those were the times she made attempts on Mukuro’s life. Sometimes it had just been an exceptionally boring fight while she had been out. Occasionally she was unable to entrap any men who would try something. And sometimes, Mukuro came to understand, it was a result of substance abuse that only made her already lightning-fast mind more manic.

Junko on uppers was an entirely different beast from Junko on downers. On downers, while Junko enjoyed her game, she was usually too wasted to go for Mukuro. Instead, those were the nights Mukuro usually spent cleaning her up, taking care of her and making sure she didn’t slip and die trying to get blood out of her hair before it stained it. Junko on uppers was violent, sadistic and cruel, even moreso than her usual self. Junko usually could play the long con, taking her time and truly breaking someone down in order to maximize the despair. Junko on uppers however couldn’t resist her own impulsive nature. Junko sober could plan the downfall of the human race. Junko on uppers would enthusiastically kidnap someone and torture them within the twins’ own room. She had once confessed that the first time she had tried her drug of choice, the obvious model classic known as cocaine, was when she had ordered Mukuro to kill their parents. It had been the first time Junko had dyed her hair her now famous color, bleaching it down from her natural red. Their parents had freaked out, and Junko snapped. The last thing they saw was their daughters, one methodically and mechanically taking the lives of those that had given theirs as the other one laughed hysterically. Mukuro hadn’t known how to take the revelation that it was a narcotic mania that had formed one of the most important parts of their lives, and so filed that information away, never to think about it again.

There were signs, of course, that Mukuro could pick up on even in her sleep. It was not entirely accurate to say she didn’t dream. Rather, she dreamt only of what she intended to, and she intended to never dream. Instead, Mukuro waited and watched. She was a lucid dreamer, and her lucid dream was merely a void, a void in which she could focus entirely on the sounds around her vulnerable form. It’s common knowledge that sounds one hears while asleep can manifest in the dreams of the sleeper. Mukuro had taken it one step beyond, focusing entirely on that. At a moment’s moment’s notice she could will herself awake, for whatever reason. While she was asleep, the sound of Junko entering always prompted waking, but before she even did she would know what Junko was like at that moment. Junko, when drunk, attempted to enter like normal. However, it never worked, and she always ended up tripping or bumping into something and swearing. Mukuro had tried to solve this by tidying up their living space, which looked more like the site of a natural disaster than a bedroom, but Junko had torched her favorite top, a gift from Junko herself, for that, so that was the end of that.

When Junko was on a cocaine-fueled rampage however, there was no subtle signs. The door blasted open and Junko made her entrance, caring not for how much noise she made. She would slam it behind her, oftentimes screaming or crying all the while doing whatever she felt like. This was one of those nights. Mukuro snapped awake as soon as the door hit the wall, and her eyes opened in tandem with it slamming shut. She sat up to see what Junko was up to, and was surprised by the sight. While Junko was definitely high, she was also definitely drunk. This was new. She was clean, and her clothing was undamaged. She held a knife in her right hand, her purse haphazardly thrown off her left arm onto the ground, contents spilling out where it landed. She came over to Mukuro and sat down on the bed.

“Ugh, I was going to try to kill you, but who am I kidding, you’d just avoid it and disarm me. I’d end up screaming at you, you’d end up taking care of me, and it would all end the same boring, predictable way. Fuck that! I need a new approach!” Junko giggled to herself, seemingly in love with whatever plan she had in mind. Seconds later she had the knife to Mukuro’s throat. Mukuro stayed still, as Junko had not yet actually moved to kill her. To her surprise, Junko crawled over and straddled her, her exposed ass under her short skirt sitting right on top of Mukuro’s thighs, covered only by a blanket. To her additional surprise, Junko kissed her. Mukuro sat back and was still, uncertain how to react. Her sister just took her first kiss, and it had yet to end. Junko was making out with her, as much as the one-sided interaction could be called that. Junko broke the kiss however and slapped her.

“Why are you so disappointing?! You can’t even react correctly!” Junko slapped her again, and Mukuro sat still and took it. This only intensified Junko’s anger, and she went to plunge the knife into Mukuro’s shoulder. Mukuro slapped it away, but otherwise did nothing.

“Fuck you, Muku. Alright, listen carefully. I know you’re fucking stupid, but you can do that, right? Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit there and take whatever I dish out. I’m not going to try to kill you, so there’s no need for your dumb ass to disobey. If you do, I will hurt you. Got it?.” Junko smiled a toothy smile, one that promised only despair. When Mukuro didn’t reply, Junko slapped her again. “Fucking reply! You’re not a goddamn corpse!”

“Yes, Junko.” Mukuro said, her voice even and calm.

Junko sarcastically imitated her before amending her orders once more. “Say whatever you’re thinking. That’ll make this way more fun.”

“Yes, Junko.” Mukuro said again, as calm as before. This only served to irritate her younger sister, who punched her right in the nose, causing it to bleed. Mukuro however sat still, and Junko rolled her eyes. Junko rolled off of her and ripped the blanket off her twin, revealing the mercenary’s body, covered only with a pair of black panties.

“Ugh, look at what you made me do. Don’t you fucking dare stain these sheets with your worthless blood.” Junko said before climbing back on her. This time the sensation was even more visceral for Mukuro. Junko’s bare flesh pressed against her own, Junko’s ass resting entirely on Mukuro’s thighs. This was also when Mukuro realized Junko wasn’t wearing any panties. Junko, sensing Mukuro’s discomfort, playfully wiggled her ass on Mukuro’s lap. “Wow sis, are you seriously getting turned on right now? Pervert.”

“No, Junko.” Mukuro said, a slight tremor in her voice. It was the truth. She had never had much in the way of a nudity taboo, and Junko hadn’t remotely encouraged one, but there was a difference from sleeping nude, even beside her sister, and this.

“Don’t lie to me. You want this. All those times you’ve undressed me, the way your fingers tremble when you wash me, those blushes you get whenever I insult you. You’re a slut.” Mukuro blushed at this remark, a sense of shame filling her. Was that really how Junko saw her care? As lust? As desire? Mukuro loved her, yes, admired her even, but there had been no intent behind that. “Look at you. You can’t hide it. That blush says it all. You want it. Well, it’s your lucky night.” Before Mukuro could protest, Junko kissed her again. She didn’t fight, didn’t struggle, but just froze, obeying her orders out of obedience and fear. Junko stripped her top off, rapidly disposing of her bra as well. Now all the model on her lap was wearing were a pair of high-heeled leather boots and a skirt. Mukuro couldn’t help but stare in shock.

“My eyes are up here, Muku. Whatever, go ahead and stare. It’s not every day your dreams come true.” Junko giggled and slid down Mukuro’s lap slightly, putting them face to face. Junko rapidly went for Mukuro’s throat, biting into it and sucking it hard. Mukuro moaned involuntarily, revulsion at herself flooding her.

“I should fight! I should stop her!” Mukuro’s brain screamed at her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t disobey her commander, her owner, her master. If this was what Junko wanted, she couldn’t take action against it. She could protest and complain, but Junko probably wouldn’t listen. Mukuro sat still as Junko repeated her assault in numerous locations on Mukuro’s neck, bruising the flesh and leaving clear impressions of her perfect teeth as she went. Junko didn’t stop until Mukuro’s entire front neck was black, blue and purple, overlapping bites forming curved patterns across her skin.

“How long have you fantasized about me, Muku? Do you finger yourself to the thought of me doing it? Do you imagine this night over and over, dreaming about it finally happening?” Junko said, a lustful smile on her painted face.

“No. I don’t want this Junko. I don’t want this.” Mukuro’s eyes begged Junko to stop, but Junko ignored it.

“Stop lying! Stop it! Stop fucking lying to me! I know you do!” Junko screamed in Mukuro’s face, causing the older twin to flinch. “I was going to be all nice and seductive, make your sick fantasies come true, but fine, if that’s how you want it, I’ll speed things up a bit!” Junko climbed off Mukuro and slid her skirt off, exposing her shaven mound to her twin. She went over to a box and dug around as Mukuro watched in fear. Junko finally gave a squeal as she pulled out something. Mukuro quickly saw it was a large black-and-white strapon. Junko slid the artificial cock on and strapped it on tight before crawling back in bed. She viciously tore Mukuro’s panties off of her, the fabric first digging into her pale flesh and then giving way. Junko forced Mukuro’s legs open and positioned the cock near her entrance.

“So, has any loser been unlucky enough to be here?” Junko said, running her hand through Mukuro’s full bush.

“N-no, Junko. Just... just you.” She said. Mukuro knew it was going to happen. She could stop it, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t disobey Junko’s wishes. Junko laughed at her response.

“Holy shit, you’re a fucking virgin. A fucking virgin lusting after her little sister, and losing her virginity to her no less! That’s priceless!” Junko laughed, either unaware of or ignoring Mukuro’s terrified expression. She’d never had anything more than her fingers inside of her, never as much as a vibrator or hairbrush. Now, here Junko was about to shove this monster inside her. It was almost a foot long, and three inches wide, an absolute beast, far more than she expected.

“Junko, please, don’t do this. I don’t want this.” Mukuro was finally beginning to break. Tears filled her eyes, each drop pregnant with a prayer for it to end.

“Yeah right. Look at you. You’ve been asking for it since the moment you got back. Come on Muku, I know you’re embarrassed, but grow the fuck up. This embarrassed virgin thing is soooo last century. I’m not stupid. You want it.” Junko smiled and Mukuro’s despair only intensified. Mukuro had barely reacted to her sister’s words when Junko thrust her artificial cock into the older twin, causing a scream of pain and despair to echo out from the soldier. Junko moaned in response, roughly pumping against her sister’s wet cunt. Inside, Mukuro hated her body for its betrayal. She knew it was just reflex, just how the body would respond, but it still humiliated her. It still made her question if Junko was secretly right. It still her wonder if she actually wanted it, somewhere deep down.

“Fucking hell, you’re tighter than I expected. Fucking virgin. God, even surrounded by men who’ll cut a woman open and rape the new holes you couldn’t get laid. You’re so pathetic. The only person that even is willing to fuck you is your own sister, and it’s a goddamn pity fuck. And you’re fucking crying. If you were even remotely attractive that would actually be pretty hot, but shit sis, you manage to even ruin that. How the fuck do you fuck up that badly? You’re disgusting, Mukuro. A disgusting sister fucker. You kept yourself virginal for your goddamn sister. What kind of disgusting freak are you?” Junko’s words tore into Mukuro’s heart and mind as her body was brutally fucked by Junko. Junko’s nails, blood red and sharp as razors, cut into her flesh, straight lines of blood rising up from her body as Junko clawed at her. Mukuro’s tears mixed with the blood on her face and flesh, her perfect pale skin marred with bruises and blood, physical reminders of her despair.

Mukuro’s body however had a different reaction. She pressed into every cut, her flesh feeling immense pleasure from the sharp pain even as her mind felt disgust. Her hips bucked against Junko’s own, primal instincts overtaking her conscious mind. Her legs wrapped around her sister’s bare skin, and her throat released moans she never desired to give. She was trapped in a body that had betrayed her. Junko saw exactly what Junko wanted to see, Mukuro in ecstasy from her brutal treatment, but the soldier inside was screaming, her only outlet to the world, the only part not lying to her sister and herself, were her tear-soaked eyes. As Junko raped her, her body loved it. As Junko raped her, her mind begged for it to stop. Everything burned. Her flesh, her eyes, her mind, and especially her soaked pussy, tearing from Junko’s brutal treatment and oversized cock causing even more blood to flow from the virginal hole.

The pain was too much. The pleasure was too much. The despair was too much. She screamed, a primal, inhuman scream, as an orgasm ripped through her body. She bawled harder at the sensation, revulsion and incredible pleasure washing over her in sadistic complimentary waves. As she came down from the hormonal high all she wanted to do was run, to shower until her flesh was burnt from the scalding water, to pour hydrogen peroxide in the wounds and enjoy the cleansing burn, but she obeyed. She couldn’t disobey Junko. Junko owned her. Junko laughed when Mukuro came, and by the time she was down from the high her sister had stripped bare and snuggled up to her. Through choked back sobs, Mukuro asked the only question she could. “Why, Junko?”

Junko’s response was as simple as it was despairful. In that moment, Mukuro felt something inside her die, a small, hidden spark of hope extinguished. “Shut up, slut. You loved it.”


End file.
